


Challenge (reluctantly) Accepted

by CourtingInsanity



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Acrophobia, Dance lesson, Editor Hermione, F/M, Funny, Hermione is Draco's boss, Serious Draco, Theo is a Little Shit, editor draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 23:31:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18108746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourtingInsanity/pseuds/CourtingInsanity
Summary: Draco Malfoy’s friends describe him as the wet rag to any fire of fun, and now he’s been tasked—nay, *challenged*—by the same dimwit mates to help his boss, Hermione Granger, lighten up.





	Challenge (reluctantly) Accepted

**Author's Note:**

> Who knew it was so damn difficult to be funny on purpose? Thank you so much to my amazing alpha, mhcalamas, and my wonderful beta, ravenslight. Without you both I don’t know if I’d ever have had the courage to post this *hides face* Much love! <3

When he was younger, Draco had enjoyed nothing more than being the centre of attention. He had competed for it on several occasions, especially at Hogwarts and always when Harry Potter was paired as his rival. But since he had grown up, he realised that he wasn’t very good at having the spotlight shining upon him and had retreated to a more peaceful life in the shadows. 

 

Now, it seemed that he had shrunk back too far, if his friends were to be believed. 

 

“I’m just saying, mate,” Theo slurred, bringing his newly-filled tumbler of firewhisky to his lips, “it wouldn’t  _ kill _ you to loosen up a bit.” 

 

“Yeah!” Blaise chimed in, setting his elbow heavily on the wooden table and pointing a long finger in Draco’s face. “You used to be  _ fun _ ! What happened?” 

 

“I grew up,” Draco drawled with a roll of his eyes. He brought his own glass to his mouth and sipped the amber liquid through pursed lips. 

 

This was apparently very funny to Blaise and Theo, who fell about laughing, almost falling from their chairs. Draco narrowed his eyes at them, but they paid him no mind; they never did anymore. He sighed and set his drink upon the table. 

 

“I think I’ll head home,” he said, speaking louder than he normally would in order to be heard over their guffaws. “Same time next week?” 

 

Theo stopped laughing at once, sitting up straight in his chair, his face suddenly sombre. “Draco,” he said, his tone serious. “This is what we mean. Your schedule never deviates!” 

 

Draco scoffed. “It does so!” 

 

“Mate,” Blaise said, fixing him with a look. “You ask us to meet you here at seven-fifty-seven every Friday night.” 

 

“ _ Seven-fifty-seven! _ ” Theo repeated, his eyes glazed over with emotion. “Don’t you see how bloody  _ sad _ that is?”

 

“I don’t think being  _ organised  _ is sad, Theo. In fact, if you tried it maybe your life wouldn’t be in such shambles.” 

 

“I’d rather be in shambles than inside that prissy head of yours.” 

 

Draco scowled, but decided it wouldn’t do him any good to continue this argument. “Goodnight,” he said, taking his cloak from the back of his chair and wrapping it around his neck. 

  
“Wait!” said Blaise. 

 

Draco stopped, but immediately regretted it when he caught the look of mischief in the Italian wizard’s eyes. “What?” he said warily. 

 

Blaise clicked his fingers together and shot a look at Theo. “I’ve got it!” he said. “I know what you should do to loosen up!” 

 

“Oooh!” Theo clapped his hands excitedly like a toddler. 

 

“What, pray tell?” Draco quirked an irritated eyebrow, longing for the comfort of his lounge and a fat glass of brandy. 

 

“Who do we know who’s an even bigger stick than this guy here?” Blaise turned his gaze to Theo again, his thumb jerking over his shoulder to indicate Draco. 

 

Theo paused, frowning as he thought for a moment. Draco thought he might be in luck as the seconds ticked by; his friends were prone to losing their train of thought when they were inebriated, and it was looking like he might be able to slip away unscathed. But then…

 

“Aha!” Theo smacked his forehead with the heel of his palm and turned to grin at Draco. “ _ Hermione Granger _ .” 

 

Draco’s blood ran hot and cold at the same time. Granger? What the bloody hell did she have to do with anything? They couldn’t possibly know that he had developed— _ shudder— _ feelings for the witch… could they?

 

“What are you two on about?” Draco rolled his eyes to the ceiling, hoping his insolent display would encourage them to drop whatever stupid idea they had concocted.

“I challenge you,” Theo began, raising his drink in front of him again. “Nay, I  _ dare  _ you, Draco Lucius Malfoy, to help one Hermione—do you think she has a middle name? Do Muggles—? Oof!” Blaise’s elbow shot out towards Theo’s ribs and connected with a painful sounding thump. “Anyway, you must help Granger lighten up. That’s your task.” He brought his glass to his lips and managed to slosh half of the liquid down the front of his robes without getting any in his mouth. 

 

Draco’s lips twitched with the threat of a smile. “Very funny,” he said, inclining his head towards Theo to indicate that he was impressed at his friend’s creativity. “But I think I’ve had enough of being the subject of your jokes, so I’ll be off now.” 

 

“Oh yes, Blaise,” Theo said seriously. “It’s eight-fifty-nine.”

 

“Eight-fifty-nine,” Blaise repeated, his expression not unlike that of someone who has just found out their dog had died. “Indeed.” 

 

“What are you two prats on about?” Draco dragged a hand through his hair in frustration. 

 

“You leave at exactly the same time each week.” 

 

“Seven-fifty-seven to eight-fifty-nine.” Theo shook his head sadly. 

 

“I do not!” Draco scoffed. His friends glanced at each other and then him, fixing him with sympathetic pouts. “Do I?” 

 

“Yep!” Theo said, popping the ‘p’ sound. 

 

“Every. Single. Week.” Blaise nodded in time with each word as if to emphasise his point further. 

 

Draco chewed his lower lip, mulling over their words. He saw nothing wrong with a bit of routine, and he quite enjoyed the predictability of his. However, he did so hate the way his friends were looking at him, as if they had any right to be concerned about how he lived his life.

 

_ If Theo and Blaise are legitimately worried for my well-being, perhaps I should reflect on how I go about my days, _ he thought with a frown.  _ And this way I could probably ask Granger out, and if she says no, I can laugh it off as part of the challenge… foolproof.  _

 

Draco’s eyes narrowed, keeping up with the charade. “If I agree to your little game, you’re going to have to play one of mine.” 

 

It just wouldn’t be believable if he accepted their terms without posing some of his own. 

 

Blaise arched an eyebrow. “Parameters?” 

 

“You stop acting like a pair of gold-digging bimbos. Get jobs. Go on a real date.  _ Stop harassing me about acting like a fucking adult _ .” 

 

“Gasp!” Theo clamped his hands over his mouth, his eyes as wide as saucers. “Did he just—?”

 

“He did!” Blaise nodded, his eyes just as comically wide. “He said  _ the eff word!” _

 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I figured you wouldn’t be able to take it seriously. See you next week.” 

 

“No! Draco, wait!” Theo launched himself over the table and gripped Draco’s cloak. “We agree.”

 

“We do?” Blaise turned to Theo, his eyes wide. Draco almost laughed. 

 

“ _ Yes, _ ” Theo said with a pointed look at the Italian wizard. 

 

“Oh, right!” Blaise nodded enthusiastically, his gaze returning to Draco. “We do.” 

 

“Okay.” Draco nodded. “Excellent. I’ll be off now…” He waited for another outburst, but his friends simply grinned innocently up at him. “Goodbye?” 

 

He made it to the door before their obnoxious laughter erupted from behind him; it echoed in his ears all the way to the Apparition point. 

 

_ Fuck, _ he thought as he whirled away.  _ What the hell have I agreed to? _

  
  


The tower which contained the offices of Quill’s Publishers rose above the others on the London street. Draco stopped for a moment to appreciate the non-descript grey building before approaching the glass front doors. 

 

“Morning, Wendy,” he called to the blonde receptionist. 

 

The witch offered him a wave but did not look up from the magazine she was perusing. Draco smiled; just like every other morning. He had been feeling unsettled and slightly off-centre ever since his conversation with Blaise and Theo on Friday night. 

 

Draco told himself that it wasn’t a  _ real _ challenge, even if he had agreed to it in the end. They had pushed all of his buttons, and he’d had no choice. The sloppy gits probably wouldn’t even remember the conversation now, having spent the last three days dousing their surviving brain cells in copious amounts of liquor. Part of him wanted to attempt his end of the bargain by asking Granger out, but then he quite liked his balls where they currently hung… also, he was terrified of her rejection. 

 

Forcing the idea from his mind, he placed his coffee cup beside a stack of neat papers on his pristine desk and unhooked his satchel from over his shoulder. Placing it on the ground, he busied himself with finding his to-do list, which he then put in the centre of his desk, adjusting it with his thumbs and forefingers until it sat in flush alignment with the angles of the surface. 

 

Draco conjured a quill and an ink pot and had just positioned the tip to tick off the first item on his agenda— _ Begin to-do list— _ when a knock at the door interrupted him. 

 

“Malfoy,” his boss greeted him. 

 

Draco’s head snapped up to meet the gaze of Hermione Granger. She was wearing a plain grey pantsuit with matching robes, sensible black work shoes, and her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail. Her expression was no-nonsense, and Draco felt the blood drain from his cheeks as she arched one eyebrow imperceptibly; that was her unimpressed look. 

 

He gulped. “Good morning,” he said, hoping she picked up on his overly cheerful tone and not the undercurrent of fear. 

 

“My office in ten minutes.” She turned on her heel and marched away, leaving Draco feeling as though he had just completed all five of his work days for the week in one. 

 

“Shite.” He sat back in his chair and sighed. 

 

So much for forgetting the whole idea. Her appearance in his office wasn’t a good sign, but he couldn’t help but notice the way she moved and the way she looked, and was that  _ lilac shampoo _ he could smell? 

 

_ Fuck.  _

 

Working for Hermione Granger had been difficult in the beginning, as they’d had to work through their differences after the war. Now, it was just awkward because Draco liked to think about her in less than professional ways… ways which could get him sent to the Human Resources department quicker than you could say  _ sexual harassment _ . 

 

He appreciated her mind, too, of course. She worked as hard as he did, and her efforts showed. She had been appointed Editor in Chief shortly before his arrival at the company. 

 

Draco had not been afforded the same opportunities, but he supposed that was to be expected when your father was in Azkaban and your mother had fled the country, unable to function in a society that considered her far beneath those she had once judged so harshly. 

 

At the end of the war, Draco had been left to face the brunt of reality on his own. The Malfoy estate had been seized, leaving him financially ruined, and he was ordered to complete his education at Hogwarts as well as a two-year internship at the Ministry before he would be allowed to earn an honest living. 

 

He had studied hard, worked even harder, and though he was damn near destitute by the end of those three years, he had good references and a high level of skill in editing and publishing, an area of expertise he was particularly passionate about. When he was headhunted by Quill’s Publishers, one of the most renowned publishing and editing houses in Wizarding Britain, he had gladly accepted a position as an editor. 

 

On his first day, he had been ecstatic, until he arrived and was greeted by none other than Hermione Granger. They had agreed upon a truce during their do-over of seventh year at Hogwarts, and from there Granger had thawed. He wouldn’t call them  _ friends, _ but their working relationship wasn’t as hostile as it once had the potential to be. 

 

The only gripe he really had with the witch was that he was still waiting for a promotion after four years of working his arse off as an editor. He desperately wanted the Senior Editor title, but every time he’d asked, Granger had insisted he wasn’t ready. 

 

He called bullshit. He was overqualified for the position, had brought the company many lucrative deals with well-known authors, and worked harder than any of his colleagues, but still he continued to be overlooked. 

 

This time, however, when the call went out, Granger had put him up for it. Him, and three other candidates. They were good editors, but Draco knew he was better. He  _ had _ to beat them. 

 

Nine minutes later, he sat down in front of Granger’s desk and folded his hands in his lap to reduce the desire to fidget. The brunette witch held up a hand, her index finger pointing upwards as she used the other to finish writing on a long piece of parchment. 

 

“There,” she said with a flourish of her quill as she completed her task. Rolling it back up, she lifted her gaze to meet his and offered him a thin smile. “Thank you for being prompt.” 

 

“Of course.” 

 

“I wanted to talk to you about the position you’re applying for.” 

 

“Oh?” Draco arched an eyebrow in what he hoped was a politely interested way. 

 

“You’re up against three strong candidates, so I need you to bring your A-game.”

 

“I always do. I’ve proven over and over that I’m an asset to Quill’s.”

 

“I know you have,” she said bluntly. “But whenever your name pops up, I have to work ten times harder to get the big guys to pay attention. Time heals all wounds but apparently not in business.” She shrugged and twisted her lips in a slight scowl. 

 

“So what do you want me to do?” His heart was sinking in his chest as he realised Granger’s appearance in his office this morning was more a charity call than anything else; she appeared to still have doubts about his abilities. 

 

“I think it would be prudent to get to know some of the panel members. There are five of them, and you’ll need to impress at least four to get through to the final round. They will pick two of you to go through, so the odds are in your favour. We just need to swing them that little bit further.” 

 

“I can do that,” Draco answered quickly. He was eager to show her he was willing to do anything to help his case. “Should I arrange a meeting with them?” 

 

Granger appraised him for a moment before answering. “Yes,” she said, “I think that demonstrates courage and initiative; great idea. Owl them immediately and let me know if you need someone to cover your work.” 

 

She stood, and Draco did the same. “Thank you,” he said with a nod, turning on his heel and leaving swiftly through the glass door. 

 

He wasn’t sure how he would convince the panel members to agree to meet him, seeing as he would be attending an interview with them shortly anyway, but if Granger considered it a good idea, he would find a way to make it happen. 

 

His father used to pull strings at the Ministry all the time, and Draco had had no problem utilising what Lucius had referred to as  _ the Malfoy charm _ to persuade his classmates to do his bidding. 

 

Settling back in his desk chair, he was feeling more confident about the potential meeting.  _ And _ , he rationalised,  _ if they don’t agree to it, at least I’ve demonstrated  _ initiative _. _

  
  


Later that week, Draco sat waiting anxiously in the boardroom. It was a room made entirely of glass with a great view of London on one side. The other gave him a vantage point of the remainder of the widespread office. He caught Granger’s eye as she hurried past, and she nodded at him, pressing her lips into a thin line. He took that to mean “good luck.” 

 

At precisely eleven o’clock, five stout men wearing black suits and matching robes waddled towards the door of the boardroom. Draco jumped up to open the door, greeting each of them as they entered. 

 

It was an awkward affair as he used his ankle to hold open the door so that he could shake their hands. Draco brushed it off, though, plastering what he hoped was a polite smile on his face. “Please, have a seat.” He gestured towards the long wooden table. 

 

He waited for them to sit before choosing his own position at the opposite end of the table. “Thank you for meeting with me,” he said, glancing to each of them in turn. 

 

“Of course,” said a man with a large, handlebar moustache. He was seated directly across from Draco and seemed to be the ‘leader’ of the panel. “So what is it you wanted to talk to us about, Mr Malfoy?” 

 

“I wanted to discuss the Senior Editor position I’ve applied for.” 

 

The man gestured for him to proceed. 

 

Draco was pleased when, five minutes in to his spiel, none of them had cut him off, and they all seemed to be listening. When he finished speaking, they asked questions which he answered happily. It was going far better than Draco had dared hope…

 

…Until the howler arrived. 

 

The scarlet envelope floated through the office and caught Draco’s eye as he finished explaining how he had met with a particularly famous client for lunch on the weekend, demonstrating his dedication to the job. He paid it little mind until it began trying to wiggle its way under the door of the office. 

 

Draco ignored it, though sweat was beginning to bead on his forehead. As moustache-man opened his mouth to ask Draco another question, the envelope began to make annoying squeaking noises, still struggling against the weight of the glass. 

 

“Excuse me.” Draco held up his index finger and offered the panel an apologetic smile before hurrying over to the door. 

 

He opened it and unwedged the envelope, intending to throw the stupid thing back into the office, but it slipped effortlessly from his fingers and suddenly Theo’s voice filled the room. 

 

Draco and his guests instinctively slapped their hands over their ears, wincing against the sound, but Theo’s shouting could still be heard. 

 

“DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY!” he roared. “THIS IS A POLITE REMINDER THAT YOU MADE A SWEET LITTLE BET WITH ME, AND I INTEND TO SEE YOU TRY—AND ULTIMATELY FAIL—TO FULFIL IT.” 

 

At the noise, the rest of the office staff had huddled around the boardroom, and Draco’s stomach twisted with burning embarrassment. Oh, how he longed for the floor to swallow him whole. 

 

And if  _ that _ wasn’t bad enough, Granger had arrived, her expression quickly evolving from annoyed intrigue to pure horror and fury. Draco opened his mouth to attempt an apology as she stormed into the room, her hair crackling around her head, but Theo wasn’t quite done yet.

 

“I WANT TO SEE YOU LOOSEN UP THAT HERMIONE GRANGER LIKE SHE’S A LID ON A JAR OF PICKLED SLUGS!” 

 

“YEAH!” Blaise’s voice was now distinguishable, and Draco groaned, dropping his face into cupped hands. “YOU HAVE ONE WEEK! CIAO, DARLINK!”

 

“BYYYEEEEE!” Theo whined, and then the envelope finally exploded into nothing. 

 

Draco’s ears were ringing as he slowly lifted his gaze. He first met the shocked looks of the panel members, who were all now standing. Then there was Granger who was practically spitting fire in his direction. 

 

“My office,” she said through clenched teeth, pointing towards the door in a way that made Draco feel as though he were a naughty child. 

 

“Sorry, gentleman,” he mumbled as he shuffled towards the glass door. 

 

He pushed his way through the dispersing crowd, trying his best to ignore the whispers and barely-concealed laughter. 

  
  


The last time Draco had felt this anxious, he had been on trial for his actions during the Second Wizarding World. Only this time, he realised with a jolt, Granger wasn’t about to speak on his behalf. Instead, the brunette witch looked like she was about to tear him a new arsehole. 

 

Draco gulped and then opened his mouth to speak, but she held up a hand to silence him. He snapped his jaw shut, squeezing his back teeth together. Frustration bubbled up in his chest, and he closed his eyes, focusing on his breath lest he erupt in a fit of desperation to explain himself. 

 

“So,” she said, the sound of her nails drumming rhythmically against the polished wood of her desk echoing around the room. 

 

Draco opened his eyes, forcing himself to meet Granger’s gaze as his heart galloped in his chest. Flames practically danced within her brown irises, and Draco fought the urge to whimper. He needed this job, needed this promotion, not just for the money but for his own mental well-being. He  _ deserved _ it, dammit, and he shouldn’t be held responsible for the actions of his two dimwitted friends. 

 

“You entered into a bet?” Her tone brought him back to the present and he inhaled sharply. 

 

“Yes,” he said, “but—”

 

“A bet concerning  _ me _ ?” 

 

Draco ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to release some of the frustration bubbling within him. “Yes,” he repeated. 

 

Granger tutted, glancing away from him for a moment. “I’m disappointed, Malfoy. I thought you had more sense than to gamble.” 

 

“There was no money involved!” he said, throwing his arms wide. “It wasn’t really a  _ bet, _ per se—”

 

“Then what was it?” 

 

“Merlin, woman!” Draco huffed, his anger getting the better of him. “Would you let me finish a sentence before cutting me off?” 

 

Granger narrowed her eyes at him but gestured for him to continue. Draco inhaled deeply, shuffling his weight from foot to foot before speaking again. 

 

“It was a challenge,” he said, holding her gaze and begging her silently to believe him. “Theo and Blaise challenged me to help you… loosen up.” He winced around the words before hurrying on, hoping to skate over the awkwardness of the moment. “I challenged them, too. I challenged them to get real jobs.” 

 

Granger’s lips twitched, and for the briefest of moments, Draco thought she was going to smile. “Well,” she said slowly once her mouth had settled into a firm line once more, “I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge. What about you?” 

 

Draco’s eyes widened, and he blinked stupidly, his jaw slack. “What?” 

  
Granger snorted.  _ Actually snorted _ . “Your  _ friends _ —” she grimaced “—have made a fool out of me in front of five very powerful board members; I want to repay the favour.” 

 

Draco licked his lips and frowned, willing his brain to keep up. “W-what did you have in mind?” 

 

Granger laughed, a short, harsh sound. “I don’t know. You’re the one who agreed to the challenge; how were you planning on  _ loosening _ me up?” 

 

Draco bit back a groan. He hoped very much that he would never have to hear that expression ever fall from the lips of his boss ever again unless it was in a very different context. “I, um… I was going to ask you out for ice cream.” 

 

“Ice cream?” 

  
“Yes.” 

 

“In England?” 

  
Draco squirmed. “Yes.”

 

“In July?” 

 

He rolled his eyes. “Okay, so it wasn’t the best plan,” he admitted. 

 

“You don’t even  _ like _ ice cream.” She folded her arms across her chest, eyeing him suspiciously. 

 

Draco raised his eyebrows.  _ She remembered that? _

 

“You told me, and I quote, that ice cream  _ ‘tastes like frozen muck _ ’.” She pursed her lips and ducked her head slightly, eyeing him with an air of superiority. 

 

“As I said,” he muttered, “not the best plan.”

 

“Any other ideas?” 

 

“Well, I hadn’t really thought about—”

 

Granger huffed. “Merlin help us all, Malfoy. You’re up for the Senior Editor position and here you are telling me that all of your creative prowess has left you.”

 

“It has not!” he insisted. “You’ve dragged me in here after that  _ humiliating  _ display—” he pointed aggressively towards the boardroom “—and jumped down my throat without giving me any time to prepare my thoughts!” 

 

“Isn’t that your problem?” she shot back. “Having to prepare your thoughts before acting or making a decision?” 

 

Draco exhaled forcefully through his nose, glaring at the now-smirking witch. “I suppose you could look at it that way,” he said through clenched teeth. 

 

“So for once, just go with what your gut tells you. Don’t think.”

 

_ All very well for you to say, Granger, _ Draco thought irritably.  _ I happen to like thinking things over and assessing risks before I— _

 

“ _ Don’t think! _ ” she repeated, arching an eyebrow in his direction. 

 

Draco growled, frustrated with himself for doing the exact thing he wasn’t meant to be doing. “Fine,” he bit out. “Meet me at The Butter Brew at seven-fifty-seven tomorrow night.” 

 

“Seven-fifty-seven?” Granger smirked. “Really, Malfoy?” 

 

“Merlin help me,” he hissed under his breath. “Make it eight, then.”

 

Granger clasped a hand over her chest, an expression of mock-surprise settling over her face. “Shock, horror!” she exclaimed. “Such a torrid display of frivolity!” 

 

Draco narrowed his eyes and shrugged, feeling suddenly drained. “Or don’t, Granger. I’d be happy to have an excuse to call this stupid charade off.” 

 

“No,” she said quickly, her expression once again neutral. “I’ll be there.” 

 

“Excellent.” He bowed mockingly and then rose to meet her gaze. He offered her the smallest hint of a smirk before he turned on his heel and swept from the room. 

 

Back in his own office, he began to plan. Granger might be endeared by his friend’s stupid notion of spontaneity being the spice of life, but he would be damned if he was going into this ill-prepared. 

  
  


The next evening, Draco arrived at The Butter Brew, a small pub in the heart of Wizarding London, five minutes before eight p.m. He was quite proud of himself for deviating from his usual routine, even if he could not bring himself to be simply  _ on time _ , because in his mind he would technically be three minutes late. 

 

He made his way to his booth and signalled for Lenny to bring him the usual. The bartender grinned wickedly in his direction and began to bustle around behind the bar. Draco looked away, watching the door, and less than five seconds later, Granger entered. 

 

Her eyes scanned the room, her lips quirking into a small smile as her gaze fell on Draco. He offered her a smile in return as she approached the booth. She stood at the end of the table, her fingertips resting on the uneven surface as she regarded him. 

 

“Good evening,” she said quietly. 

 

“Hello,” Draco said. “Please, sit down.” He gestured to the bench across from him. 

 

Granger inclined her head in thanks and began to untie her cloak. Lenny appeared before she had a chance to sit down, and she ordered herself a firewhisky. Draco was somewhat surprised; she had struck him as more of a butterbeer drinker. 

 

She grimaced at him after Lenny shuffled away, sliding into the booth. “I usually wouldn’t go for Ogden’s,” she said, “but I figure I’m supposed to be trying new things for this… challenge.” She arched an eyebrow gracefully, and Draco gulped. 

 

“I suppose I should change things up, then,” he commented, indicating the tumbler in his left hand. 

 

“You should,” Granger agreed with an air of grave sincerity. 

 

Draco fought the urge to roll his eyes. He was on edge, having not changed his routine in the past few years. Part of him regretted even agreeing to this charade, first with Theo and Blaise, and then with Granger… especially with Granger. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair before letting his fist fall to the table with a  _ thump! _

 

Granger regarded him with pursed lips. “So, have you got a plan now?” 

 

Draco opened his mouth to answer in the affirmative, but before he could make a sound, the door opened and in walked Theo and Blaise. Draco exhaled through his mouth and made a pained sort of face. “You’re about to find out.” 

 

“Sweet Circe!” Theo cried upon catching Draco’s eye. He clutched a hand over his chest and stumbled backwards into Blaise, who caught him with a grunt. “I don’t believe it!” he wailed, bringing one hand up to rest on his forehead as if he were a damsel in distress. “Draco Malfoy has arrived  _ not _ at seven-fifty-seven! Miracles do happen! Oh, happy day!” 

 

“Har, har,” Draco quipped as Blaise steered a still-limp Theo towards the booth. 

 

As Blaise placed the dramatic wizard beside Draco, Theo suddenly came alive. He wrapped an arm around Draco’s shoulders and grinned at him. Draco was surprised to note real tears in Theo’s eyes. “I’m so proud,” the brunette wizard whispered, his lower lip trembling. “So, so proud of you, Draco.” 

 

“Easy, mate.” Blaise slid into the booth beside Granger, who was making incremental movements towards the wall in an attempt to get as far away as possible from the Italian man. “Don’t scare him off.” 

 

“Right,” said Theo, uncurling his arm and dabbing at his eyes with his sleeve. “Of course, sorry, Draco.” There was a moment's pause in which Draco shot an apologetic look at Granger. “It’s just I’m  _ so  _ excited!” Theo wailed, now throwing himself backwards against the seat and slouching slightly. “Draco is finally going to have that stick removed from his arse… such a long road we’ve traveled, but now a cure is here, and it’s  _ beautiful. _ ” 

 

Suddenly, Theo sat up and thrust his arm across the table, his hand dancing wildly in front of Granger. 

 

“Theo,” Draco warned through gritted teeth. 

 

“Yes, Theo, exactly,” the wizard in question purred. “Theodore Nott, to be precise. Lovely to meet you… properly, that is.” 

 

Draco inhaled to the count of five as Granger took Theo’s hand and shook it. “Pleasure,” she said. 

 

His fingers twitched with the urge to slap Theo upside the head, and he folded them in his lap. When he met Granger’s gaze again, the witch raised her eyebrows, and he shook his head in response. He had no explanation for Theo’s behaviour other than it was just totally  _ Theo _ . Embarrassment crawled its way up his chest and bloomed on his face, but he fought the flush in his cheeks as he cleared his throat and said, “So, how’s the job hunt coming?” 

 

Blaise scoffed. “Dismal. Everywhere wants  _ qualifications _ and  _ experience _ .” He screwed his nose up and accepted the firewhisky Lenny set in front of him with a grateful nod towards the bartender. 

 

Theo clapped his hands childishly as he accepted his drink, a ridiculously pink concoction in a tall, thin glass. A curly straw stuck out of the whipped cream on top of the icy-looking mess. He wrapped his lips around it with a smacking noise and slurped greedily. 

 

“Theo, could you maybe not make out with whatever that is while the rest of us are sitting here trying to enjoy our grown-up drinks?” 

 

Theo scowled, pointing a thin finger at Draco. “It’s called a  _ berry nice _ , and it’s delicious!” 

 

“If you say so,” Draco said underneath his breath. 

 

The next hour passed quickly with Blaise and Theo providing most of the entertainment. After his third vibrant drink, Theo began to gather the numbers of several men who were enjoying their Friday night loitering at the bar. Every time he returned, Theo would giggle, slap the number on the table, and declare, “Another one for me!” as if they were keeping score. 

 

After he came back with the number of a thin, sallow-looking man whose mug held something which looked suspiciously like blood, Blaise cut him off. “No more, Theo,” he said firmly. “You’ll get yourself killed one of these days.” 

 

Theo protested, but Blaise cast a sticking charm which fixed the whining wizard to the seat in the booth. Theo pouted, and Draco was grateful for the silence. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long, and Blaise finally stood, unsticking the sour-faced Theo, hauling him to his feet before turning back to address Draco and Granger. 

 

“I’ll take him home,” he said. “It’s almost eight-fifty-nine, anyway.” He flashed a wide grin at Draco, offered a small wave to Granger, and then turned to leave the bar, dragging a tantruming Theo behind him. 

 

“Well, that was…” Granger shook her head and downed the remainder of her glass, wincing as she did so. 

 

Draco groaned and wiped a hand down his face. “I don’t know why I’m friends with them,” he muttered through his fingers. 

 

“You can’t say that they’re not entertaining.” Granger shrugged, and Draco shot her a look. “What I don’t understand,” she continued, fixing him with a meaningful look, “is what exactly you wanted to get out of this meeting.” 

 

“I wanted to prove to them that I could get you to agree to having a drink with me.” 

 

Granger chuckled. “I see,” she said. 

 

“And that I can arrive and leave at different times,” Draco added, avoiding meeting her gaze. He shuffled uncomfortably and checked his watch; it was eight-fifty-nine, and his feet itched, longing to carry him out of the bar just as they did at this time every other week. 

 

“You really are uptight,” she observed. 

 

Draco scoffed. “Look who’s talking,” he shot back. 

 

They were silent for a long time, Draco practically sweating with the desire to leave while Granger stared straight ahead past Draco’s right shoulder. 

 

“What’s next, then?” she finally asked, dragging her gaze back to his face. 

 

Draco smirked. “I do have a few things in mind.”

 

“Oh?” 

 

“But they’re a surprise.” 

 

“Colour me shocked.” She grinned but tried to hide it by biting her bottom lip. 

 

Draco couldn’t help but drop his gaze to the plump curves of her mouth, wondering what it would feel like to cover it with his own. He shook himself. “We begin tomorrow,” he said before draining the last of his drink and standing. 

 

Draco offered his hand towards her, and she took it, shuffling forwards until she was standing in front of him. For a moment they stayed there, Draco holding her hand, and Granger looking up into his eyes half-expectantly. 

 

“Well, I should go,” she said, finally breaking the spell. 

 

“Yeah,” Draco agreed, dropping her hand quickly and clearing his throat. “Of course. Um, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

“When?” she asked, mirth dancing in her eyes; she was clearly enjoying his discomfort. 

 

“Lunch time,” he said. “Meet me at the office.” 

 

She frowned in a doubtful sort of way, but did not articulate her concerns. “Okay,” she said. “It’s a date.” 

 

With that, she turned on her heel and marched from the bar, leaving Draco slack-jawed in the middle of the room, her last word echoing in his mind. 

 

_ Date. Date. Date. Date. Date.  _

  
  
  


The next day, Draco dressed in a simple pair of slacks and a knitted jumper. Checking himself out in the mirror, he brushed back his hair from his face, turning this way and that to make sure everything was as it should be. Satisfied with his appearance, he turned to collect his wand from atop his neatly made bed and Apparated away. 

 

He landed in the alleyway next to the Quill’s building and hurried around the corner. Granger was waiting for him wearing a beige-coloured coat and Muggle jeans. He sighed in relief as he noted her appearance; he’d forgotten to mention that robes would be out of place where they were heading today. 

 

“Hello!” he called out when he was a few paces away. 

 

She turned to him and smiled. “Hi,” she said.

 

“Ready?” he asked. 

 

“As I’ll ever be.” She shrugged her shoulders and tilted her head to the side. “Where are you taking me?” 

 

“You’ll see,” he said, an unfamiliar sensation of excitement bubbling in his chest. 

 

He couldn’t help the grin as it spread across his face, and he gestured for her to follow him. They walked around the building and across the road, crossing several blocks of the business centre before arriving at a large expanse of parkland. 

 

“I don’t understand.” Granger turned to him with a frown as they slowed their pace. “Are we going to fly kites or something?” She wrinkled her nose at the empty oval of green grass. 

 

“No.” Draco shook his head. “Here.” He offered her his hand, which she took reluctantly. 

 

He stepped over the low wooden logs which had been placed around the edge of the oval, tugging on Granger’s hand to indicate that she should do the same. 

 

A soft gasp to his left told Draco that she was seeing what he could see. A ferris wheel stood above them, glittering in the afternoon sunlight. Children were running and laughing through a maze of stalls, and the smell of popcorn mingled with deep-fried donuts and hot chips. 

 

“A fair?” she asked, turning to him, a hint of disbelief in her eyes. 

 

“A  _ Muggle _ fair,” he corrected her. 

 

Her jaw dropped open. “But—”

 

“The wards,” he explained before she could formulate the question. He indicated behind them with a jerk of his thumb. “They’re strong enough to keep Muggles from stumbling across us, but they also block out this park due to its close proximity.” 

 

“Fascinating,” Granger whispered, and her tone suggested that she was being genuine. 

 

Pride flared in Draco’s chest. He had researched for hours to come up with today’s activity, and he was thankful that Granger seemed impressed. “Shall we?” he asked, offering his arm to her. 

 

She took it, smiling happily, and they entered the grounds. Granger wanted to try the ferris wheel first, so they made their way to the line and waited. It moved fairly quickly and soon they were seated in a small cage, pressed closely together as the operator settled the metal bar across their laps. 

 

Granger turned to him, grinning. “I haven’t been on one of these since before Hogwarts.” 

 

“Really?” he asked. “I’ve never been on one.” 

 

Granger’s eyes widened comically. “Gosh, I hope you don’t mind heights.” 

 

“Heights?” Malfoy gulped. “How high are we talking, Granger?” 

 

“Um…” But before she could do the calculations, they began to move. “High?” 

 

“Merlin.” He swallowed thickly, glancing down as they were swept up and away from the ground.

 

He gripped the bar which suddenly felt much too tight across his middle. His knuckles were white and his palms clammy, slipping along the metal. Sweat beaded at his temples as they reached the peak, his stomach rolling. Breathing heavily, he glanced wildly at Granger, desperate to focus on anything other than how far above safety they were. 

 

“Don’t look down,” she blurted out. 

 

“Thanks,” he snarled through gritted teeth. “That’s really fucking helpful!” 

 

“Well you’re the one who agreed to get on!” She huffed. “Why would you take me here if you’re bloody terrified of heights?”

 

“I didn’t know it was going to be like this!” he shot back, squeezing his eyes shut. 

 

“What did you expect?” she hissed as they continued to move forward. 

 

Draco peeked through one eye as the ground came up to meet them. “Argh!” he screamed, lurching forward and flattening himself against the bar. 

 

“Honestly.” Granger tutted. 

 

Shaking, he drew himself up slightly. “I thought it was like the magical one, where you get in the cart and then you choose where you want to go.” 

 

“Ohhh.” Granger snapped her fingers together and nodded, some of her ire dissipating. “Like virtual reality. Yeah, this isn’t like that.” 

 

“I know that now,” he whined. “How do we get off?” 

 

Granger laughed. “You wait until the ride is over. We’ll go forwards for a little bit, then backwards, then they’ll let us off.” 

 

“You’re kidding!” He was hyperventilating, the walls of the rocking cage closing in on him. 

 

“I’m not,” she assured him, leaning to the side so she could watch the ground as it sped away from them again. 

 

“Granger!” he shouted, lunging for her and tugging her back into a sitting position. 

 

“What?” She turned to him, annoyance flaring in her eyes. “For the love of Morgana, Malfoy, you’re not going to die. These things are perfectly safe!” 

 

Draco whimpered, fighting the urge to cover his eyes with his hands. He clung to the metal bar, biting into his lip as the swooping sensation sent his stomach towards his throat on the descent, and then towards his knees on the ascent. 

 

“I don’t understand,” Granger said, angling her head slightly so she could observe his face. “When you played Quidditch at Hogwarts you would have been much higher than this.”

 

“That was a long time ago,” Draco replied, squeezing his eyes shut. 

 

“Not that long,” she pushed stubbornly. “Is it because it’s a Muggle contraption?” 

 

No, it wasn’t, but Draco would sooner be seen in public without hair gel than retell  _ that _ story. He shuddered, the combination of the ride and the memory making him feel decidedly woozy. 

 

It had been a warm summer night and Draco was enjoying a drink with Theo and Blaise. His friends, as usual, had consumed far more alcohol than he, so Draco was mostly sober when Theo had hoisted him up by his ankle and hung him out of the window. 

 

“Draco, look!” Theo had yelled over Draco’s screams. “Look at that girl there! She seems like your type! Here, let’s get her attention.” 

 

Draco had protested as the blood rushed to his head and pounded in his ears. The alcohol rolled around in his stomach and burned up his esophagus. But Theo was deaf to his pleading. 

 

“EXCUSE ME, PRETTY LADY!” Theo had screamed into the street. “I HAVE A QUALITY PIECE OF MEAT FOR YOU!”

 

Needless to say, the girl had not been impressed and the only action Draco got that night was half an hour of putting his head between his knees and hyperventilating. 

 

It was too embarrassing to share with Granger, so he ignored her question. “I don’t like it,” he declared at the top of their third round. “I want to get off. Now!” 

 

“Well you can’t,” Granger hissed. “Just breathe. We’ll be fine.” 

 

“No.” He shook his head emphatically, sweat flicking everywhere. “I have to get off.” 

 

“You  _ can’t _ ,” she repeated. “Come on, breathe through your nose. In, two, three—”

 

“I NEED TO GET OFF!” Draco screeched as they swung past the controller’s cabin at the bottom of the wheel. “LET ME OFF THIS INSTANT!” 

 

The controller caught the panicked look on Draco’s face and shook his head in an irritated sort of way. This only made Draco more desperate to get off the infernal ride. 

 

“HELP ME!” he screamed, ignoring the hushed warnings from Granger. “HELP! I NEED TO GET OFF!” 

 

Panic and fear oozed from every pore of his being, and he shook violently, sure he was about to pass out, or vomit, or perhaps both at the same time. 

 

“Malfoy, you’re making a scene!”

 

“I don’t care!” He panted. “I can’t do this!” He pushed against the bar in a futile attempt to loosen it. “Granger, I can’t…” he whimpered again as they returned to the ground. “PLEASE!” he directed to the controller. “LET ME OFF RIGHT NOW OR I’LL SUE!” 

 

“You’re acting like a child!” Granger admonished, but Draco could barely register her words. 

 

“I don’t care! I don’t care!” he repeated, swallowing against the bile that threatened in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Let me off, let me off, let me off,” he chanted feverishly. 

 

Granger sighed. “Great,” she said. “You’re getting your wish.” She folded her arms across her chest and slouched in her seat. “Just don’t tell anyone you were with me.” 

 

Her snide remark fell on deaf ears as Draco sat up straighter, realising that the ride was indeed slowing down. Relief flooded him, and he turned to apologise to Granger, a sense of calm settling over him as the promise of safe ground appeared tangible. 

 

She was smirking at him. “Of course, you will have to wait, as they’ve stopped the ride with us at the top.” 

 

“What?” 

  
“Look,” she said innocently, pointing towards their feet. 

 

Without thinking, Draco’s gaze followed her index finger. He could see the cages in front of them and below them swinging in the breeze. His stomach clenched, and he gagged, only just managing to stop himself from vomiting onto the heads of the couple beneath them. 

 

“Granger!” he rasped. “What the fuck!” 

 

In a panicked daze, he pulled out his wand from the pocket of his trousers. The ride dropped forwards slightly as the next cage in line was inspected for the wailing man, but Draco was already preparing to get himself off of this stupid ride. 

 

“Malfoy, no!” Granger shouted, her arm flailing as she tried to grab the wand from his grip. 

 

“NO!” he screeched, aiming it first a the bar which released them immediately.

 

He fell to the floor of the cage, only just managing to get to his feet. He stood shakily as Granger continued to swipe at him, but then he turned on his heel, and relished in the feeling of Apparition as he whirled away. 

  
  


When he arrived home, he collapsed onto his couch and lay there for several hours, willing the world to stop spinning. By dinner time, he was able to move again and he made himself some plain toast; he wasn’t keen on upsetting his stomach any further. 

 

As he munched away, a sense of chagrin settled into his bones. Flashes of memory returned to him which, when he had first returned home, hadn’t seemed too irrational, but now that he was thinking clearly again, they made him cringe. 

 

“Ugh.” He shook his head and dusted the last crumbs from his hands onto his plate. 

 

He had made an utter fool of himself in front of Granger, and he was definitely going to lose this challenge, if not the position of Senior Editor. He could kiss goodbye whatever small chance he may have had at winning a real date with the witch, too. Why he’d thought that attending a Muggle fair was a good idea was beyond him; he should have just taken her to Fortescue’s as he had first planned. 

 

“Would have been safer,” he muttered as he placed his dish in the sink. 

 

He shook his head, attempting to dislodge the memories of panic and Granger’s disappointed face and made his way back to the lounge, intent on reading a bit before heading to bed. 

 

Before he reached the couch, however, his doorbell rang. He frowned; who was visiting at eight o’clock on a Saturday night? Shuffling towards the door, he knew he shouldn’t have been surprised when he came face to face with an irate looking Granger. 

 

“You left me,” she spat, pushing past him and entering his apartment without waiting to be invited. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he said, wishing he could explain himself better. 

 

“You’re sorry?” she arched an eyebrow as she tore at the buttons of her coat and then hung the garment on the stand by the door. “For what? For making a scene atop a ferris wheel? For drawing attention to us with your wailing? _ For performing magic illegally in front of Muggles and then leaving me to explain how you’d somehow escaped? _ ” 

 

Draco swallowed a groan, a hot flush crawling its way up his neck. “All of the above?” he tried.

 

“You’re bloody lucky you don’t have a court date!” she hissed, her eyes narrowed to slits as she poked a finger into his chest. 

 

Draco stumbled backwards, still not having regained his equilibrium. “W-what?” 

 

Granger scoffed, a dangerous sound which settled in Draco’s bones, leaving him feeling unbearably cold. “You don’t think I’ve been at the  _ fair _ all this time?” 

 

Draco opened his mouth to admit that he hadn’t really thought about what she had been doing since he returned home, but she barrelled on before he could form a word. 

 

“After you ran away, the Ministry arrived. Obliviators, Aurors, the fucking works. I had to explain to them that you had used accidental magic due to insurmountable fear and trauma!” 

 

Draco groaned. “Great,” he said sarcastically. “So Potter thinks I’m some unskilled fourteen year old who can’t control his magic!” 

 

“Not just Harry,” she shot back, her cheeks flushing with the force of her anger. “Me, too! And Ron, and Kingsley, and—”

 

“Okay!” he shouted. “I get it! I’m a ponce! I’m sorry!” 

 

She exhaled forcefully through her nose. “You owe me,” she said, much quieter now. 

 

“Fine,” he bit out. “What do you want?” 

 

“What was your next  _ brilliant _ idea for this challenge?” She arched an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a way that suggested she thought he was an utter dunce. 

 

“I don’t think the challenge is a good idea,” Draco said in a small voice. He ran a hand through his hair, wishing that he had access to a time turner so that he may go back to that stupid conversation and shut his friends down before they even suggested such a thing. 

 

Granger shrugged. “Too bad. I refuse to be made a fool of, Malfoy, and that’s twice in two days you’ve put me in such a position. I’m in charge now.” 

 

Draco scoffed. “You can’t be in charge of the challenge. The whole point is for  _ me _ to get you to let  _ your _ hair down.” 

 

“And how’s that going for you?” she snapped. 

 

Draco sighed, taking in the way her hair crackled around her head like some sort of ill-groomed familiar. “Not well,” he admitted under his breath. 

 

“Exactly! So hand it over.” She held out her palm expectantly. 

 

Draco arched an eyebrow in question. “What are you on about, witch?” He was at the end of his tether; if she wanted to take on the challenge, good luck to her. Theo and Blaise would forget all about it once they failed to uphold their end of the deal, which would inevitably happen soon, and in the meantime, he could use the excuse that Granger forced him to give it up. 

  
“The binder,” she said, wiggling her fingers. “I want it.” 

 

Draco paled. “What binder?” he said, though his voice was an octave too high. 

 

“The binder,” Granger repeated, enunciating each syllable very carefully. She took a step towards him, and Draco instinctively stepped back, terrified by the look in her eyes. “ _ Now _ , Malfoy!” 

 

“Fine!” he roared, throwing his hands up in the hair. “Merlin help us all, Granger, you are the most insufferable woman I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting!” 

 

“Thank you!” she deadpanned as he turned and stalked back to the living room. 

 

“Here,” he said, thrusting the thick folder into her arms upon his return. He smirked as she stumbled under its weight. 

 

“Is this it?” she asked, her eyes glinting mischievously. 

 

“Is that—? Seriously?” He gawked at her. 

 

“No wonder today was an epic failure.” She sniffed, stumbling towards the door as she tried to settle the too-large binder in her arms. “I’ll send you an owl for our next attempt at this challenge. No heights, I promise.” She shot him a lurid wink over her shoulder, and Draco was torn between wanting to shake her and wanting to kiss her; there really was a fine line between love and hate. 

 

“Fine,” he said, rubbing a hand over tired eyes. “Goodnight, Granger.” 

 

With that, he turned to walk away, chuckling as she called out, “Erm, Malfoy? I need you to open the door…” 

 

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” he said solemnly as he continued to retreat. 

 

She growled in response, and he laughed as he watched her from around the corner. Granger fumbled and dropped the binder, swearing as she dug around in her jeans for her wand before summoning her coat and opening the door, levitating the file out into the night. 

 

When the door clipped closed behind her, Draco sank to the floor, his eyes shut in an attempt to keep the forming migraine at bay. When he had entered into this challenge, he had never thought it was going to be easy, but he had not considered it would be this difficult. 

  
  


Draco spent the first half of his Sunday wallowing in misery, and he passed the second half stressing about facing his boss the following morning. When he arrived at work on Monday, however, he found that he had nothing to fear. 

 

“Granger isn’t in today,” her assistant told him as he walked by. “Enjoy unclenching your butthole.” 

 

Draco grimaced at that imagery, but he did feel more relaxed as he entered his own office and sat down behind his desk. He worked hard all morning and decided to treat himself by wandering down to the little bakery on the corner for lunch. 

 

It was there that his day started to sour. 

 

“Malfoy!” 

 

He did actually clench at the sound of her voice.  _ Dammit! _

 

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her wild hair blowing about her face and almost hiding it from view as she came to a stop in front of him. 

 

“Getting lunch,” he answered, a note of uncertainty in his voice. “What are  _ you _ doing here? Corner told me you had the day off; I presumed you were sick.” 

 

Granger laughed, an honest-to-Merlin laugh that sent tingles down Draco’s spine. “I had to take a day to plan.” She help up the familiar grey binder. 

 

“Really?” He arched an eyebrow in obvious disapproval. “Doesn’t that sort of defeat the purpose of being spontaneous and  _ loosening up _ ?”

 

“You tell me.” She grinned, and Draco pouted. 

 

She had him there. “Did you meet me here on purpose, or…?” Draco squinted down at the witch as he shuffled forward in line. The smell of pastry wafted over him as he set foot inside the cramped store, and his stomach grumbled. 

 

“Actually, no,” she replied with a slight frown. “This is true serendipity.” She tapped the binder with the fingernails of her free hand. “It does save me an owl. Meet me at The Butter Brew at seven tonight.” She didn’t wait for a response, turning on her heel and calling over her shoulder, “And wear something comfortable!” 

 

Dazed, Draco staggered back to the office with his cream bun and sat at his desk, looking at the work before him as if the words no longer made sense. He hadn’t expected Granger to back down from the challenge, at least not before he had a chance to convince her the whole thing was a terrible idea, of course, but the fact that she had taken a day off to plan something… had someone cast an Opposite Day charm? 

 

Logically, he knew that was impossible seeing as  _ he _ remained just as uptight as ever, but it was the only strand of hope he had, so he clung to it until it was time to go home… and prepare for whatever Granger had planned. 

  
  


The Butter Brew was quiet at seven o’clock on a Monday evening. As Draco entered, he noted that there were only two other patrons besides himself: an ancient-looking hag and a familiar brunette. 

 

He made his way towards the latter, and Granger looked up from her butterbeer as he approached the booth she had chosen. “Hello,” she greeted him with a warm smile. 

 

“We don’t usually sit here,” he answered. “We sit over there.” He indicated their usual booth with a nod of his head. 

 

She frowned. “Well, seeing as we’re in the process of trying new things, why don’t you just sit here and I’ll tell you where we’ll be spending the rest of the night.” 

 

Draco hesitated. It felt like he was parading as someone else over here, less than three metres away from their usual spot. He wanted to argue, to tell her it wasn’t such a big deal to move, but he knew she would insist and the whole conversation would make him look like a spoiled brat. So, with an exaggerated huff, he sat down across from her. “Okay,” he said. “I’m listening.” 

 

She leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, “Dancing.” 

 

“Excuse me?” Draco blinked, unsure of her meaning. 

 

Granger rolled her eyes and tutted. “Honestly, Malfoy, you suck the fun out of everything.” 

 

“Says you!” he retorted. 

 

“Yes, says  _ me _ .” Granger raised her eyebrows as if she had just made a significant point. “We’re going dancing, you boring prude.” 

 

“I am not!” Draco spluttered. 

 

“You’re not going dancing, or you’re not a boring prude?” she challenged with a tilt of her head. 

 

“Stop that! You know what I meant!” Draco gnashed his teeth together, wishing he was at home with a cup of tea and a good book. 

 

Granger downed the last of her butterbeer and then set the glass on the table with a solid  _ thunk _ . “Let’s go,” she said, placing a few coins on the table before nodding to Lenny. 

 

Draco stood slowly, watching her as she shrugged into her coat and then bounded towards the door. How dare she act so happy; did she not know they were on the brink of yet another disaster?

 

“Granger,” he mumbled as they stepped outside. The cool wind bit his cheeks and for a moment he felt calm. “I feel I should warn you… I can’t dance.” 

 

She laughed and Draco felt his insides turn to liquid. “Neither can I.” She shrugged and then looked both ways before leading him across the street. “This should be fun.” 

 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he said grimly, conjuring images of her at the Yule Ball back in their fourth year. He had watched her dance with Krum, and she’d been perfectly coordinated. He highly doubted that Granger had somehow become miraculously left-footed since then. 

 

“Here we are!” she announced after no time at all. 

 

She was grinning up at an old, single-storey building with peeling blue paint and a dingy looking banner strung above the door which read FOR LEASE in faded red lettering. 

 

“Granger,” Malfoy started, “I don’t think—”

 

“Hush!” she said, beginning to hop on the spot.

 

“What are you—?”

 

“I said  _ hush! _ ” Now she was twirling, her feet shuffling this way and that. 

 

As she began to wave her arms above her head in a crude sort of fashion, it began to rain. It splattered down on both of them, building to a torrential downpour. 

 

Draco pulled his coat up over his head. “Granger!” he called, though he couldn’t make out anything in front of him. “Granger, where are you? Let’s get out of here!” 

 

“I’m near the door!” she called back.

 

Draco growled, frustration giving way to full-blown anger as he traipsed through the quickly-forming puddles to where he assumed the door was. A light flickered dimly overhead. and he caught sight of Granger huddled next to the old building. 

 

“Granger!” he called as he made his way towards her. “I’m not staying out in this weather!” 

 

“You don’t have to.” 

 

The rain was dissipating as fast as it had come, and Draco glanced up at the building as Granger smirked. The worn paint was now a bright, crisp blue, and the windows shone as if someone had just finished scrubbing them. 

 

“What the—?”

 

“Welcome, Malfoy,” Granger said, cutting him off, “to Madam Urqhart’s School of Dance!” 

 

With a flourish, she pushed open the door and hurried across the threshold. Groaning, Draco followed her. 

 

The foyer was well lit and warm, and as the door closed behind them, Draco felt himself dry off instantly. 

 

A small group of people were sitting in colourful chairs dotted around the room. Some of them turned and offered smiles to Granger, and Draco stared on in a mixture of shock and amusement as his boss waved back. 

 

“Come here often?” he murmured out of the corner of his mouth. 

 

“Shut up.” She scowled. 

 

He was feeling a little less stressed now that he realised it wouldn’t just be him and Granger. Images of him stepping on her toes while she yelped and a faceless instructor screamed insults at him gave way to new fantasies of watching the other misfits stuff up their steps; they didn’t look particularly lithe. 

 

“Students!” a booming female voice preceded its owner into the small room and everyone fell silent. A tall, thin woman with black hair tied back in a no-nonsense bun appeared in the doorway. She inclined her head at the congregation and smiled as she clapped her hands together. “Come through!” 

 

She turned and glided back through the doorway. Draco looked to Granger, who offered him an encouraging smile and then took his hand, leading him behind the line of other dancers. 

 

“How long will this take?” he whispered as they entered the hall. 

 

“Shh,” she admonished, letting go of  his hand. 

 

Draco didn’t dwell on how keenly he felt the loss of contact. 

 

“Today, we will study the waltz!” Madam Urqhart announced once everyone had filed onto the dance floor. She walked around between them, pairing them up silently as she spoke. “It involves a three count beat: one slow, two quick. Oom, pa, pa; oom, pa, pa!” she explained as she pushed Draco closer to Granger. “Ladies, you will need to follow your man.” 

 

Draco shot a look at Granger, who grimaced back at him, but from the way she smiled quickly afterwards, Draco knew she hadn’t meant it. He swallowed thickly as Madam Urqhart ordered them to take their positions. He had had lessons as a child, but he had never been particularly skilled in the art of movement; he prefered sitting behind the piano. And now it had been years since he’d asked a girl to dance… he barely remembered where to put his hands. 

 

“Here,” Granger said, stifling a giggle. She positioned his hands, one on her hip and the other gripped firmly in hers. 

 

“I knew that,” he insisted. 

 

Her laughter was drowned out by the music which suddenly blared from an elegant gramophone. Then they were moving, and it was all Draco could do to concentrate on matching his steps with the beat. 

 

By the end of the first song, he was pretty sure Granger was leading  _ him _ . 

 

“Okay, your turn,” she said as the music began to swell again. 

 

“Two, three, four!” Madam Urqhart yelled over the music. 

 

And they were off again. This time, Granger was more placid, believing him to be in control. 

 

He was not. 

 

Draco stepped on her foot. “Backwards!” she hissed. 

 

Draco tripped, and she barely caught him. She said nothing here because he’d winded her so bad she couldn’t breathe. 

 

Draco tried to spin her on cue, as Madam Urqhart screeched, “And spin!” over the reedy bars of music… and she fell. 

 

“Malfoy!” she hollered, floundering on the floor but before he could offer her an arm up, a far more skilled couple bumped into them, and they ended up sprawled on top of Granger, Draco included. “Gerroff!” she squealed, flailing her limbs as Draco tried to sort out which of his appendages were where. 

  
“Here.” He offered her his hand as soon as he had extracted himself from the pile. “Sorry.” He rubbed the back of his neck as she glared up at him. 

 

“Again,” she said, breathing hard through her nose. 

 

So they did it again, and again, and again, until by the end of the two-hour lesson, Draco could waltz to an entire song without stepping on her toes, tripping, or sending Granger tumbling to the floor. 

 

“I did it!” he announced as the final song ended, throwing his hands over his head in a victory sign. 

 

“Well done,” Granger said, putting her hands on her hips. She was panting, and Draco offered her an apologetic smile. 

 

“I really am sorry, but I did warn you I was terrible.” 

 

“You did,” she agreed. 

 

He caught her eye, and they both laughed; it felt good to be silly, to forget about real life for just a moment and just  _ live _ right here, right now. 

 

On their way to the Apparition point near The Butter Brew, they continued to laugh and banter about nothing in particular. Draco’s heart had not felt so full in a long time and disappointment crept in as he realised that the ‘date’ was almost over. 

 

He fell serious as they reached the corner of the pub, intending to ask Granger what exactly they were doing, continuing with the challenge, and whether it would be possible to  _ also _ have a copy of her binder, but before he could open his mouth the door to the pub opened and out staggered two familiar faces. 

 

“Draco!” Theo yelled, running towards them on tiptoes, his hands posed in front of him as if he were mimicking a horse.

 

“DRACO MALFOY!” Blaise seemed to be far more inebriated as he shuffled towards them along the side of the building, one finger pointing towards Draco. 

 

“Theo, Blaise,” Draco greeted. “I’m out with Granger, as you can see.” 

 

“Ah, Granger!” Theo blinked towards the brunette witch as if he was shocked to find her there. “How’s Draco doing on the challenge? Failed yet?” 

 

“No,” Granger answered. “We’ve just been out dancing.” 

 

“You took him dancing?” Blaise crowed, placing one hand over his stomach as he doubled over with laughter, “Y-y-you—HA!” 

 

“Oh, I would have paid to see that.” Theo smirked, folding his arms across his chest as he looked Draco up and down with pursed lips. 

 

“And… and…” Blaise swallowed thickly before righting himself and then stepping towards Granger until he was almost flush against her. “ _ Did he have a binder _ ?” 

 

Granger’s breath hitched, and she slapped Blaise’s chest with an open palm. “ _ Zabini! _ ” she hissed. 

 

“Ow!” he shouted. “Bloody hell, witch!” He staggered backwards, clutching his chest. 

 

Draco narrowed his eyes. “Granger?” he said out the corner of his mouth. “What does he mean by that?” 

 

“Umm…” 

 

Theo rolled his eyes and threw his hands up. “Well, now you’ve done it!” He rounded on Blaise. “Ruin the whole plan, why don’t you?” 

 

“What plan?” Draco hissed, fury building within him as he glanced between his two intoxicated mates and his very guilty looking boss. “Granger,” he enunciated, warning lacing his tone, “if you don’t tell me what’s going on right now, I swear I’ll—”

 

“Alright!” she said, holding her hands up, palms facing towards him. “I admit it… this was sort of a set up.” 

 

“Sort of a… a set up?” Draco closed his eyes and willed his brain to slow down. He was feeling too many things at once, and all of a sudden, it was as if he were atop the ferris wheel again. “Y-you tricked me!” he hissed, opening his eyes and glaring at the witch. “And worse than that,” he continued, pointing towards Theo and Blaise, who were now practically passed out against the side of the pub, “you teamed up with  _ them _ .” 

 

“We’re shorry, mate,” Theo slurred. “Granger wanted you to loosen up, and we thought it couldn’t hurt.” 

 

“You weren’t going to get that Senior Editor’s job,” she said, jutting her chin out. “I had to do something.” 

 

“The howler…” His eyes grew wide, and he clenched his fists at his sides to prevent himself from reaching out and throttling his boss. “That was your idea?” 

 

Granger bit her lower lip. “Maybe,” she replied. “You have to admit,” she added quickly as Draco growled under his breath, “that looking back it was sort of funny.” 

 

“No, Granger,” he whispered. “I don’t think it was at all funny. Humiliating, gut-wrenching, nightmare-inducing, yes. Funny… not even a little bit.” He rounded on Blaise. “And how did you know about my binder?”

 

It was Theo who answered; Blaise was apparently passed out. He snorted. “Draco, you have a binder for sorting your socks into colour coordinated drawers. Of course you’d have a binder for this.” 

 

“A big one,” Blaise slurred before his head fell back against the brickwork once more. 

 

Draco huffed. “Why did you take it, though?” he asked Granger. “Why not just make your own?” 

 

“I didn’t need a binder.” She smirked. “I only used it to convince you that I was on your side.” 

 

Draco snorted. “I cannot believe I was so stupid.” There was a pause, during which he ran his fingers through his hair. 

 

He couldn’t make sense of this; Granger working with Theo and Blaise to get  _ him _ to loosen up all so that he could win a position he’d been working his arse off towards for years? What was the point? Granger could have done that on her own if she’d simply  _ told  _ him to. There was no need for the fanfare. 

 

He was about to say as much when Granger began to speak again. “Look, Malfoy,” she said, “I know that this seems an oddly cruel thing to do to someone, but we really didn’t have a choice.” 

 

“Yeah, mate,” Theo chimed in. “You’re a bloody stick in the mud… and up the arse.” He burst into chaotic laughter, but Granger cleared her throat, and he fell immediately silent. 

 

“You never would have conceded had I just asked you to relax. You’re wound so tight—and that’s coming from me!” She held up a hand to stop him from interjecting. “I know you think that you’re rational and would have been able to follow that simple instruction, but believe me when I say it wouldn’t have worked. I know because I was exactly like you.” 

 

“I was under the impression you were,” he muttered, glaring daggers at his friends. 

 

“They meant well,” Granger said, her hand resting tentatively on his arm. Draco’s first instinct was to throw it off, but the warmth was actually quite nice. “And so did I.” 

 

“I can’t believe it,” he said after a moment’s pause. “This whole time I was trying to get  _ you _ to loosen up, but instead you were the one trying to get me to relax.” He shook his head. “The ferris wheel; that can’t of been planned.” 

 

Granger rolled her eyes and dropped her hand from his arm. “It most certainly wasn’t! Well, not to the extent it played out.” Draco arched an eyebrow in question. “I knew you’d screw up whatever first attempt you made. I just didn’t expect you to nearly get  _ arrested _ for performing magic in front of Muggles. You really are very lucky it was Harry who answered the call.” 

 

Draco rolled his eyes. “So you’ve said.” 

 

“But,” she continued as if he hadn’t said anything, “it  _ did _ give me the perfect opportunity to snatch the binder and for us to begin the real plan of getting you to loosen up.” She paused, tilted her head, and licked her lips before continuing. “I’m just sorry these two fools ruined the plan before it could really start.” 

 

“Really?” Draco asked. “What was next on the list of embarrassing classes? Cooking?” 

 

Granger’s eyes widened. “Are you as bad at cooking as you are at dancing?” 

 

Feeling a little better, Draco leaned in conspiratorially. “Worse,” he whispered. 

 

“Merlin help me then!” Granger laughed, her eyes dancing. Draco realised that he quite liked her laugh… and her smile… and the way she was looking at him right now. 

 

He cleared his throat and forced himself to focus. “Maybe you could teach me,” he said softly, “in private, though. I don’t think I could bear further public embarrassment.” 

 

“I don’t think you could handle it,” Granger replied, a definite flirty edge to her tone. 

 

“Oh?” Draco arched an eyebrow as he stepped forwards and captured a frizzy strand of her hair between thumb and forefinger.

 

“I don’t use a recipe,” she whispered, angling her face up so she could meet his gaze. 

 

Draco hummed appreciatively. It would be so easy to kiss her, just a slight movement downwards and his lips would be on hers. He lowered his eyes to her mouth, contemplating, but in the end he decided against it; so many emotions had swirled between them in just the past few minutes alone… it wasn’t the right time. 

 

“I’m all for a bit of spontaneity, Malfoy,” she said, her lips quirking into a soft smile. “By all means, kiss me.” 

 

Draco was about to do just that when a retching sound from his right brought them back to the present. 

 

“Ugh, Blaise, you have the  _ worst _ timing!” Theo whined. He was standing next to the hunched-over wizard, a magical camera poised in his hands. 

 

“I’ll help you get them home,” Granger said, moving to clean up the sick. 

 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Trust you two,” he muttered, picking Theo up in a bridal hold. 

 

“Weeee!” the idiot said, tightening his arms around Draco’s neck. “You know,” he whispered, his acid breath wafting up Draco’s nostrils, “I think you and Granger make a very cute couple. In fact, I challenge you—”

 

“Shut up,” Draco hissed before Apparating them away. 

 

As long as he shall live, he vowed he would never again enter into a challenge with Theo or Blaise—or Granger, for that matter. 


End file.
